


True Love

by roadtripwithlucifer



Series: Meant To Be Exemption [2]
Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: AND WORKING THROUGH TRAUMAS TOGETHER, AS IS HER RIGHT, F/M, HAND HOLDING AND UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER, Kisses, REBECCA FEELING LOVED AND APPRECIATED, because these idiots deserve a happily ever after, many different ways of having sex, schmoopy schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadtripwithlucifer/pseuds/roadtripwithlucifer
Summary: “I – I mean in the grand scheme. Like. You watch a bunch of those romantic comedy movies, right? What happens after – after the big confession?”Rebecca fake-strokes an imaginary beard and lightly punches him in the arm after a few seconds.“Turns out, that’s when the movie ends. I guess the hum-drums of a relationship aren’t interesting.”Greg lowers his voice, heart jumping into his throat. He traces his fingers against Rebecca’s arm, and feels the goosebumps that almost immediately form on her skin.“Its interesting to me.”Set post-finale. Part 2 of Meant to Be Exemption





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for my wonderful friend Lydia (@itsourparis) for beta-ing this and for giving me inspiration with music and boundless passion. Wouldn't have have kept writing this without you!
> 
> Playlist for part two:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mObCtB0bRohpCiJaUGiTl

Greg and Rebecca never did things in the right order. Greg admits that. He knows that there’s an order for these things. He’s been in, like, a normal relationship.

But if anything is more characteristic of Rebecca’s and his _whateverthisis_ , its making grandiose, profound confessions of love in front of all of their friends while intertwining themselves into each others lives for the past two years without having been on a single, solitary date.

Maybe they’ll try to make things work every 3 years until one of them, probably Greg, inevitably dies.

That’s the thing, Greg knows. Love isn’t enough. If it was, him and Rebecca would have sailed off into the sunset six years ago, him a self-hating alcoholic and her a self-sabotaging neurotic love-addict.

In Buddhism, there are four elements of true love. Greg knows this because, eventually, after reading through all the other mindfulness books Guardrail left him with before he traipsed off to Atlanta, he picked up this orange book that he’s hidden underneath a stack of old magazines and decided to stop being a child and learn a little bit about this foreign concept of true love.   

  1. Maitri – loving-kindness, or benevolence. Loving-kindness is not only the desire to make someone happy, to bring joy to a beloved person, it is the ability to bring happiness to the person you love. Because even if your intention is to love this person, your love might make them suffer.
  2. Karuna – compassion. The desire to ease the pain of another person, and the ability to do so.
  3. Mudita – joy. If there is no joy in love, it is not true love. If you are suffering all the time, if you cry all the time, and if you make the person you love cry, this is not really love – it is even the opposite.
  4. Upeksha – equanimity or freedom. You must love in a way that the person you love feels free, not only outside but also inside.



 So, yeah, his knowledge of what love is has evolved multiple times over the past six years. And with every definition, every epiphany, every iteration, he knew he loved Rebecca.

Loved Rebecca six years ago, when love was unbridled passion, insecurity, the fluttering in his heart. Rebecca Bunch, a hot mess and a woman who threw his heart up in the air and hit it, home run, every time she blew him off. Greg hadn’t felt a damn thing for years – just the buzzing in his head and some kind of constant niggling annoyance and suddenly its like he had feelings. A lot of them.

When he dated Emily in Atlanta, love grew and changed. Because with Emily, love was stability, and reassurance, support, and mutual respect. So when Greg made his way back to West Covina and met Rebecca again, he really didn’t think he’d feel it. Greg is an adult now. He has an adult interpretation of love and Greg from almost three years ago was just thinking with his dick. But Rebecca shows up, vibrant, patient, kind, different and suddenly its like both types of love can merge into one? Where you can admire and respect someone AND be extremely physically emotionally and spiritually attracted to someone? Who woulda thunk it. Not Greg.

And then, over the past two years? Love suddenly became a permeating feeling in his heart, way ahead of rage and annoyance and hate and irritation and – there’s other feelings, right? Because he found love in a couple of other things – not just people, but in the restaurant. In the way Marco all but dropped smoking as soon as he started to work at Serrano’s again. How suddenly the stove in his kitchen had burners again and, sure, the fire alarm went off a few times, but Marco Serrano hurried to Greg’s apartment, knocked on his door flustered, and almost threw a whole plate on arancini at him. Love became growth. An appreciation of differences. Admiration and pride. And love became a part of him. Something he knew how to give. Something he was ready to receive. He started to use the word – something that stayed so poison on his tongue from his teenage years into his late 20s. He loves Serranos. He loves Marco. He loves Shauna and the twins and even his step dad, god forbid.

He loves the strip malls and boba stand and the freeways and the traffic. Love, now, is acceptance. Embracing what always seemed to be the un-embraceable. No longer fighting that Southern California banality. Even if a part of him still wants to take a pair of scissors and cut off every man-bun in his vicinity. But, one man’s man-bun is another man’s… something. Greg will come around to it eventually. Or maybe he won’t. He figures the man-bun havers of the world aren’t losing sleep over him finding them a tad distasteful.

Love is just… something that is. Love is not a gift. Not expectation. Its just a fact. Greg Serrano loves Rebecca Bunch.

None of these versions of love were wrong, per se. He felt them. So they must have been true. He must have been in love with Rebecca Bunch on day 1 and day 2,190, each love unrecognizable from the other, but still love.

Rebecca Bunch apparently loves him back. An interesting factoid. He doesn’t have the heart to ask Rebecca how long she’s felt that way. Sure, her song did say that she loved him when he was pouring her drinks and at the bridge with the ducks AND in Atlanta working on his degree. That takes them back to, what, 2015? But, knowing Rebecca, she could have included that all for dramatic effect. It’s a lot less impactful of a song when you say “loved you for the past year or so that you’ve left me alone and we’ve been doing our own thing and also all my other romantic interests have either left West Covina or are in relationships but here you are.” 

To clarify, though, when did she exactly know that she loved him? Was it when he made that awesome obscure metaphor about flambéing her cockatoo? Or perhaps when he kept beating Harvard educated Rebecca Bunch at Words with Friends? Or perhaps when he left her in that airport after saying that their relationship was definitely like a play about pieces of feces? Sure, its grand, and its well produced. But in the end? Still shit.

The first time Greg Serrano fell in love with Rebecca Bunch, she was adjusting a pillow behind his back. She’s the only other person he’s ever met that was so understanding of his desire, and, honestly, his right, to not have a hot butt. She raises her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders, and his butt isn’t the thing that’s hot right now. Oh no. Its his… heart?

The second time Greg Serrano fell in love with Rebecca Bunch, he’s watching this impulsive, selfish woman talk to the court about hot water and cold showers. She’s being weird, and dramatic. Saying shit that no lawyer, or sane person, would ever say. About fighting for people. And suddenly, Greg needs a cold shower too. Heather was right about half a billion things. She’s right about another billion now. Right about how there needed to be a ride-sharing app for all the drunk parents to take their kids home from their baseball games. Right about the mandatory undershirt rule, which has saved many people from Kevin’s sweaty underboobs. For the record, Greg never felt like he was settling for Heather. At that time, Greg felt like any woman that enjoyed his company was settling for him. He was cool with it. Greg Serrano never saw himself as more than a stepping stone for the girls in town to get to Josh, or someone who wasn’t a loser bartender who still lived with his dad. But. Something must have flipped. And then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t cool with it.

The third time Greg Serrano fell in love with Rebecca Bunch was when she ordered the peach schnapps on the rocks. Greg doesn’t think she ever intends to be so funny, but man. She’s one of the only people he’s ever met that can make him laugh out loud. The look she gives him after he hands her that gin and tonic? She might as well have ordered Greg himself, liquefied, on the rocks.

The fifty sixth time Greg Serrano fell in love with Rebecca Bunch, she’s telling him she’s sorry at Rebetzel’s. She’s told him that she’s sorry a dozen times before. She’s had a lot of things to be sorry for. But so has he. He doesn’t know how she simultaneously looks at him like she’s known him his whole life and like she’s never seen him before. He feels like a new person in her eyes. He already can’t imagine leaving her side. And that’s after, what, eight minutes since seeing her again? His brain must have Trojan-horsed all the serotonin and dopamine from his brain until this moment. It figures that his impenetrable defenses were breached by Bunch. Greg should not be surprised. But he is anyway.

The ninety-fourth time Greg Serrano fell in love with Rebecca Bunch, she’s making some grandiose speech, talking about how much she loves every person in that room. And finally, she looks at him, doesn’t look through him, not like at Heather’s and Hector’s wedding, and just says Hi Greg. He feels seen. Known. Loved? He mouths back hi. Its… intimate. Could have just been him and her in that room. ‘I don’t know what I can say to you that I haven’t already said’ she said. 

He kept his distance. She said she had to do this alone, and there’s things he needed to do alone too. Find a new therapist. Wean off his medication. Forgive Marco Serrano. Cater Valencia’s and Beth’s engagement party. Babysit Hebecca. Learn a thing or two about himself. And still, he can’t help but muse what kind of trick the universe, or fate, or pure unadulterated chance pulled to keep putting him and Rebecca Bunch in spitting distance of each other. He kind of had a feeling he was gonna be Fucked Up with a capitol FU after tonight. She sings the words ‘In an unexpected twist – it turns out magic exists,’ and instead of looking at Josh, which would have made so much fucking sense it almost made him cringe, she catches his eye.

Greg hates Valentines Day as a concept. Hates the pink and red adorning each building, the cheap flowers and tasteless candy flying off the shelves, the ridiculous expectations from significant others ... And for what? For some old Roman dude and some naked babies carrying arrows threatening bodily harm? No thank you.

 But…As a restaurant owner, the sold out seats, the ‘wine and meal’ upsell, the 10 cents a piece chocolate strawberries that a toddler could make selling like some kind of artisanal dessert? Well. He’d be a poor businessman not to capitalize on it.

 “Greg?” When Greg wasn’t paying attention, the MC removed the keyboard from the stage and all of Rebecca’s guests had gone. Greg darts his head around, only to see Heather pushing Valencia and Beth out the door, one hand waving over her head. There were still a few more people slotted for the open mic that night and quite a few guests still in the audience, eyeing Rebecca and himself suspiciously. He places his glass of tonic water back on the bar and gives her a tight smile.

“Well, Bunch. That was. That was really something special.”

She beams up at him, words coming a mile a minute.

  
“Really? It went by so fast – my hands are sweaty, and my armpits, oh, my armpits - do you think those people are looking at me??”

One of the patrons next to Rebecca glances towards her and reaches out, tapping on Rebecca’s arm softly.

“You did a great job,” this unknown patron says, nodding her head and Rebecca spins right around to Greg, eyes wide open and a look of child-like mirth on her face. She’s somewhere else suddenly, hands on her cheeks, looking towards the ceiling. She’s doing the thing again. Greg purses his lips and follows her line of sight behind himself at a hanging cutout of a baby Cubid getting ready to shoot an arrow. When he looks back at her, her expression is more serious, and she blinks a few times, directing her gaze back towards Greg. Greg tilts his head at her and despite his confusion, he finds himself smiling.

“So. Rebecca.” He starts, and her eyes focus in on his face. She takes a deep breath and flashes her dimples at him, smile wide and shoulders lifted around her face.

“So… Gre-go-ry.” She annunciates each syllable, tapping her own arm to a made-up beat.

 “You sticking around for the rest of the open mic?”

Rebecca’s face falls. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but no words come out. Her voice drops a caliber and Greg can almost feel the tension radiating off her body.

 “I’m… well, actually... I’m grabbing dinner with Nathaniel tonight. He… flew all the way from Guatemala and…” She’s talking with her hands, flailing them in front of her face, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

Greg reaches out, placing a tentative hand on her forearm, causing Rebecca to stop flailing for a second.

“Listen… You don’t have to explain things to me.  Someone flies in all the way from Guatemala for an open mic night , well, you should at least have dinner with them.” On Valentine’s Day. Of course.

Rebecca bites her lip and looks down, holding her hands behind her back. Greg takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek. There’s nothing to be upset about here. He’s his friend. She’s his friend. They’re having dinner. And besides. Him and Rebecca… They’ve had this talk. They’ve beat this dead horse into the ground.

“Are you… are you doing anything later tonight? Maybe I can stop by…” she inquires. 

“Oh – oh, I. No. Its Valentine’s Day, and I – I’m gonna close up shop today. There’s a lot of people that have places to be, so… I, erm. I gotta go.” Greg stutters out. He clenches his hands, unclenches and jerks his head towards the exit. Before Rebecca could say anything more, he drops a few dollars on the bar table and power walks his way out, waving a half-hearted goodbye.

Maybe the less he talks about it, the less his heart will hurt.

After all this time.

Well. Here’s to hoping.


	2. Chapter 2

Leave it to Nathaniel to plan something extravagant.

Rebecca shows up in her red dress and pumps and feels like she should be in a ball-gown. They’re closer to LA than West Covina and the traffic is insufferable.  Nathaniel rented a sleek BMW of all things, jet black, and she immediately feels out of place, red and frills and bows in such a sleek and stylish vehicle. She’s almost surprised that Nathaniel sitting next to her isn’t wearing aviator sunglasses, smoking a cigar and drinking a glass of scotch behind the steering wheel, with this whole James Bond vibe going strong. Guess old habits die hard.

He looks good. She’s not used to seeing him in this middle space – not in a suit but also not completely naked. He’s wearing a black Henley and well-fitting jeans. He keeps darting looks at her like an excited teenager.

He brings her to this large, open restaurant. Its late and most of the patrons have already left. Gratuitous black and white pictures of wine pouring, rustic, coastal villages… Rebecca stiffens and fights the impulse to dart right out the door. An Italian restaurant. Really, Nathaniel?

Her back already hurts from the new stiffness in her shoulders, but Nathaniel doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in full gentleman mode, pulling out the chair for her to sit in, ordering their wine, asking their server to light the candle between them. All stuff that should be making her feel… something. Something different than what she’s feeling now.

It doesn’t take long for him to bring it up. They’re barely into the appetizer course when he clears his throat.

“So. About you being ready for the other type of love.” He starts, giving her a small, sly smile, pouring more of the Cabernet into her glass.

Rebecca’s head shoots up and she chews through the few leafs of arugula in her mouth. She takes a heavy swig of wine and flashes him a quick smile, teeth red. 

“I… uh.”

He shrugs his shoulders and places a hand on the table, touching the tips of her fingers as she keeps a tight grip on her wine. Rebecca can’t feel herself breathe. There’s a knot at the bottom of her stomach.

She knows the notes of those romantic trills. How many times has she heard them? She plays them tentatively in her head, but they don’t take life on their own. Just dull, misplaced notes. She takes a quick look around, mouth in a straight line. The white tablecloths. The vague impersonal black-and-white photography. The staff and their blank faces. Even the lettering on the menu. This place is all wrong.

“I’m leaving in the morning. And I have a hotel by LAX. I was just thinking... It’s a beautiful night. You accomplished something… incredible tonight. And you deserve a celebration. Me and you… we always have such a great time. What do you think?” 

What do you think? Greg Serrano is standing in front of her, Hebecca fast asleep at Darryl’s house. He tells her that he misses her. And can’t stop thinking about her. ‘What do you think?’ he says, eyes hopeful.

Rebecca smiles widely, showing Nathaniel the top row of her teeth and jerks her hand and glass of wine away to take another long sip. He’s looking at her, expectantly, fire behind his eyes.

 _Come on, Becky,_ she tries to motivate herself.  She shouldn’t be feeling like this. The times her and Nathaniel spent together have been some of the best of her life. 

Greg is standing in front of her, behind him, the escalator. The light of the airport is glaring and he looks at her, painted in that brightness, a silhouette. ‘You and I have had some great moments together, some of the best of my life.’

How long has she been using his words? How long have they echoed in her head, like notes to an unfinished song?

Rebecca nods sharply and taps her fingernails against the table.

“You know, when you’re right, you’re right. But… you know what? Lets not do that. Lets – lets actually just talk. Can we do that? Can we talk? Like friends?”

Nathaniel’s face drops and he removes his hand from hers, pulling back to his plate and clearing his throat. She watches his face go through a myriad of emotions, until he finally settles on a resigned smile.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s talk. Get to know each other.”

Rebecca taps her glass a few times and gives Nathaniel an apologetic smile. The heaviness lifts from her shoulders, but Nathaniel is now hunched, quiet. He’s still a man who isn’t used to accepting rejection. A flutter of satisfaction wells up in the depths of Rebecca’s brain, knowing she can still affect him like this. She swats it away – an old Rebecca thought. Nathaniel doesn’t deserve that. 

 “So. Tell me more about Guatemala.” 

* * *

 

Greg is placing the chairs on top of the tables and straightening out the table cloths when he hears the knock on his door. He looks up and – déjà vu. Sure, her hair is longer, and she’s wearing a tight red dress and her knock is softer, more hesitant, but there she is. Knocking on his door – always knocking. Asking to be let in.

Greg tilts his head at her, processing the woman outside his restaurant before slowly walking over and unlocking the door. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks slowly, opening the door enough that Rebecca can squeeze through. She has her hands clasped in front of her and she’s looking down before pursing her lips and making eye contact with him.

“Its… been a weird day. Can I help out? Closing up shop, I mean?”

“You want to talk about it?”

Rebecca sets her purse on the ground and steps towards Greg. “Not really, no.” 

He keeps his feet planted firmly in place. Greg points towards to bar with his thumb behind him. “Want me to pour you a glass of wine and sit in silence?”

“You know me so well, Serrano.”

Greg can’t put a finger on the expression that Rebecca makes as she says it. Her lips arch up gently, almost as if she’s watching a favorite movie. Familiar and nostalgic and soft. He shuts down his brain for a minute, swallowing down the bitter words that want to come up. How was your date? Nathaniel still a solid lay like he was a year ago? He shakes it off and grinds his teeth. If the acid creeps to the back of his throat and he has the sudden, juvenile impulse to fight Nathaniel, that’s not on Rebecca. That’s on him. 

This is an important day for her. She’s fought hard for this. To make music. To give herself permission to fall in love. She did say she was, potentially, ready for the other type of love. Greg kicks himself for even allowing himself to hope that she was talking about him. 

* * *

She truly does love every person in that room. Each and every person in that room has somehow changed, vitally altered, influenced Rebecca’s life.

How could she not love Paula for pushing her to her passions, for being a mother and a friend and an endless inspiration for her? Or Valencia, who took all her small town bitterness, fell in love with a woman, moved to New York, and changed everything? Or Heather, who graduated, found a passion and a purpose and a drive and ended up proving even her parents wrong?

 And Josh. How could she not love Josh? Since the age of sixteen, he’s been an endless inspiration for her music, a comforting thought as she fell asleep after another awful day in New York, a reassuring, shining light. Innocent and dreamlike, loving him was like wrapping herself in a warm blanket. Like watching her favorite boy band and fantasizing about meeting them and going on their tour bus, and hey, if something happens with all four of them, well, who is she to complain. Josh… is the reason she came to West Covina. Kind, and generous, and thoughtful. Josh never stopped making her feel like a person. 

And Nathaniel. Of course she loves Nathaniel. If Josh love was PG13, Nathaniel love was rated M. He opened a world of passion in her that she didn’t know existed. Challenged her mentally, physically. Saw the darkness in her and matched it – never made her afraid of it. Made her feel like she wasn’t broken. That she was a loving person, and she deserved to love and be loved.

And Greg.

Her moral arbiter. An ever-present guiding light no matter his physical distance. The lighthouse during each storm. Every time she got lost in her story, she found herself back at Home Base. The compass spun around and she’s north. She’s near Greg Serrano. Doesn’t matter what scheme her and Paula are pulling. Doesn’t matter what the most recent scathing phone call from Naomi did to her. Doesn’t matter what unintentionally heart-breaking thing Josh did. The gravity of Greg is inescapable and Rebecca never fought it. He was never that pop of glitter. More like a warm, dangerous fire. With no government mandated fire-escapes. Some historians would say inevitable. Greg Serrano was, is, a flashpoint. That ignites something.

Something that Rebecca doesn’t have a name for.

She knows its not the way she felt about Josh or Nathaniel. And if the way she felt about them were ‘love,’ then what can she say about Greg?

Love has always been a transaction. She’d get Josh the job, or buy him soup, or try to get Nathaniel closer to his dad, then the reward was supposed to be more love. Hell, that’s what motivated half her actions, altruistic and otherwise, most of her life. If I do this for you, then you will love me, and I will matter. God forbid she did a nice thing and someone else took credit! She saw that sneaky Anna the Browbarian. Getting Josh love for the soup she wouldn’t have ever sent. Humph.

But then she found herself doing things that Greg never found out about. Like asking Josh to hide the fact that they were together when they found out he was an alcoholic, even though every bone in her body wanted to – hoped to see him seethe with jealousy. Using Paula’s triangulation tracking device to find him at that pond, even though she wasn’t ready for the hurt that conversation would bring, but she was even less ready for Greg Serrano to relapse.

And. 

Leaving him alone when he went to Atlanta. Not calling. Not texting. Knowing in her heart of hearts that no matter how much she missed him, wanted to talk to him – he moved on to a better place. A place without her. And that was okay.

It shocks her to this day that the times he came to visit West Covina from Atlanta, their bodies didn’t collide together instantaneously, drawn to each other like the north and south ends of a magnet. She knew if from the half a dozen times she, late at night, would look up flights to Atlanta on her phone. Or how often her mind drifted back to him – not their moments together, necessarily. Just wanting to know how he’s doing. How his classes are. If he’s truly ‘madly in love’, what that even looks like on a sourpuss like Greg Serrano and how that feels. Funnily enough – and sad funny, not ha-ha funny, she knows how it feels. Knows how it feels now and can almost touch it. 

Well.

Of course she loves Greg. The alcoholic bartender who calls me out on my stuff but we have undeniable chemistry. How quickly he jumped right the fuck out of that box she wanted to put him into and transformed into something else. Someone that she never felt she had to lie to. Someone she could always be herself with. The burst of affection, gratitude, pride that she gets each time she sees him, every time he smiles at her… He gave her something to look up to. He gave her hope. That one day, she too can be okay.

And now she is. And so is he.

Greg Serrano. The only person she never intended to fall in love with. The person she tried so hard not to. The irony.

* * *

 “So you didn’t sleep with Nathaniel? Whoa, girl. You know what that is?” Heather opens her palm as if a flower. “Growth.” Valencia snorts. Paula just gives the two of them an incredulous look and they all focus back on Rebecca. Rebecca absently picks at her food, appearing to be deep in thought.

“I basically straight up said I was ready to date again – and nothing! Can you believe it? He hasn’t asked me out at all!”

“Rebecca… you said that in front of a room filled with a bunch of your ex boyfriends.” Paula responds gently, threading her eyebrows and darting skeptical looks at Valencia and Heather at the table across from them.  “And one of your ex boyfriends did ask you out. Someone in that room. Honey, if you wanted it to be Greg, you should have been more specific…”

“I. Saved. Him. For. Last.”  Rebecca punctuates.  “And last year I told him that I would have chosen him. I don’t know how I could have made it clearer!”

“Uhm, that’s murkier than Estrella’s tank. Yeah. I’ve been to Josh’s apartment. Magic people are not sanitary.” Heather reports, nodding more at herself rather than the girl group.

“Honestly, girl, he told you you were the love of his life and you didn’t say anything back. Trust me, if I learned anything from proposing to Beth, sometimes you just have to take control.” Valencia assures wisely, all the while placing her hands on her face to display her oval-cut diamond.

Rebecca places her face in the palm of her hands. The being around and being cute has always worked wonders for her. If she just keeps showing up at Serrano’s, or at his apartment, or….

Wait. Hold on. What is that bullshit? Rebecca almost recoils and shakes off the thoughts. What? Sure, she’s the queen of ‘I just happen to be here’ but, come on. She literally just spent the past year grabbing the bull by the horns, metaphorically, and finding a way to do all the things she’s ever wanted to do.  Rebecca is a strong, independent woman! She doesn’t have to wait for a man.

Valencia is right. 

Rebecca starts to dig in her purse, haphazardly taking out a notebook and a small pen.

She has an idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**One year, one week later:**

Greg snaps back to reality. They’re in Serrano’s. Its open mic night. The regular patrons are looking around, bewildered, at the random groups of people – their friends -  suddenly clapping as he and Rebecca stand hand in hand in front of his kitchen. A few of the non-friend customers are tentatively clapping as well. Greg feels the impulse to raise his hand in Rebecca’s like Olympic figure skaters winning the gold, but in stead lets go, raises his eyebrows at Rebecca, and wipes his damp hand against his pants.

_Build a life with me?? Build a life with me? Who says things like that?_

‘When do we start?’ It’s a grandiose question. Its not a romantic answer to say ‘maybe after the dinner rush, or when we get a day off, or actually, can we potentially rain check because I’ve been waiting a long time and suddenly it’s a little too real lol.’

What does he do now? This certainly isn’t like the end of a two-and-a-half-star movie. Rebecca has her open mic song to sing. Its still early in the evening and a few patrons are waiting anxiously in front of the host stand, waiting for someone to seat them. And besides all that, what are they supposed to do? He’s going to carry her bridal style out of the restaurant, and then they ‘start a life together?’ What even is that?

Rebecca taps him lightly on the arm as one of his servers skirts around him out of the kitchen, and people get back to eating their meals, himself glued to the same spot on the floor.

“Hey. What’s going on up there? Are you okay?”

“What… what do I do now?”

Rebecca smiles widely, looking like she’s trying not to laugh, her eyes apologetic.

“Greg – you go back to work. I play my song.”

“I – I mean in the grand scheme. Like. You watch a bunch of those romantic comedy movies, right? What happens after – after the big confession? 

Rebecca fake-strokes an imaginary beard and lightly punches him in the arm after a few seconds.

“Turns out, that’s when the movie ends. I guess the hum-drums of a relationship aren’t interesting.”

Greg lowers his voice, heart jumping into his throat. He traces his fingers against Rebecca’s arm, and feels the goosebumps that almost immediately form on her skin.

“Its interesting to me.”

He makes a step towards her and Rebecca looks up to him, biting her lip. She finds one of his belt loops with her pinky and pulls him a fraction of an inch closer. That motion alone is enough to send a prickling sensation up his neck… 

“Guys! Seriously! That shit was cute but I’ve been waiting for like, 40 minutes for my pizza Bianca. _Sbrigatevi_!” WhiJo shouts over to them from his booth, Hector and Heather, sat across from him, nodding in agreement.

Greg and Rebecca pull apart, her casting a quick smirk to Greg before going back to setting up her equipment. He breathes in deeply, giving himself five seconds.

“I don’t speak Italian, man! Also – what?” Greg shouts back before he darts into the kitchen.

Rebecca circles her fingers, voicing ‘one two, check’ into the microphone as Chris works his way to Serrano’s light switches and dims the lights a bit. The room quiets down and all faces are on Rebecca in front of her keyboard.

Greg sets down the drinks in front of the patrons and looks at her. Every time, it knocks the air straight out of him. Her nervous smile. Her tentative hands. Each week he sees her, a little more confident. Like she’s taken root and grown into this beautiful flower of a person.

“Hey everyone! Happy to see some of you guys back at Serrano’s – welcome, welcome. I’m Rebecca Nora Bunch, as you know. I’ve – I’ve been playing here for a year and a half. As mentioned last week,” a few scattered laughs come from the audience and Greg hides his own embarrassed smile in the palm of his hand.

  
“Today I’d like to debut something… that’s been, uh, rattling around my nogs for the past few years. A song I’m still working on about – about this town. And what it means to me.” 

Her voice starts first, clear and poetic. Greg moves away from the patrons, leans back against the wall, crosses his arms and watches. Amazed, every time. 

West Covina, California!

There’s no time to think and rally

As I head for the pride of the San Gabe Valley

My whole life’s falling apart – it’s a sign

That I’m hopeless and miserable and lonely – just, this time… 

West Covina! That’s where we are!

And its not just a coincidence, not fate or luck or chance

Who’d have thunk it – unbelievable – the motto’s Live, Work, Play!

What I needed

Just happened to be

 

Rebecca finds him against the wall, and through her smile sings, “Here!”

Greg feels the shivers trail up his spine and his chest gets tight.

She’s right.

_Who’d’ve thunk it?_

* * *

 As the night is winding down and only a few people are left in the restaurant, Rebecca approaches Greg, working on counting the tabs behind the bar.

“So… uh. My place? Or yours? By the way, can I say that I love we have that option now, because truly I’m like, feeling so adult-y, and honestly hooking up in the same house that your dad is in, that’s just…”

Greg takes in a sharp breath  and almost rolls his eyes at her.

  
“Rebecca – why? Why bring it up? But,” Greg pauses and looks down at his hands. “I was thinking we go to neither place.” 

Rebecca shrugs. “Great, here then! After everyone leaves! _A la’_ Home Base. Replaying the classics. Love it.”

“Not here either.”

“…. You still have that IBD app on your phone?”

“Rebecca. No. I’d – I’d like us to go on an actual date. Let’s do this like people, yeah?”

“Like… you’ll come to me. In a car.”

“I bought a car that functions recently, yes.”

“And we’re going to go out together.”

“Yes.”

“Like on a date.”

“That’s the idea.”

Rebecca tilts her head as if deep in thought. She purses her lips, scrunches her eyebrows and gazes off behind Greg again. He smiles and goes back to counting the tabs.

“A date. Okay, Gregory. Let’s go on a date. Let’s go this… Thursday? I know weekends are really busy for you…”

“Sure. Right. I’ll text you.”

“Yes. You will… text me. With the details. Of our date.”

“Yes. I will do that."

  
“Okay.” 

“Alright.”

* * *

Rebecca clutches her keyboard and the stand and gives Greg a quick wave as she exits the restaurant. He waves as well. WhiJo is one of the few people left in the restaurant now, and he’s looking him up and down in a very… judge-y manner. Greg slides himself into WhiJo’s booth opposite of him. 

“You’re taking Rebecca on an actual date? How are you gonna do that? Is that even possible for you two? Also, do you still know how to go on dates? Its been, like, two years.”

“ – that’s not. It hasn’t -  I’ve. I’ve dated.”

“Really. Really. You dated. Who’d you date?”

“Remember Ashley Pratt? From high school? And also Darryl’s party?”

“Oh no way, dude? I thought you made out with her at that party and never spoke to her again.”

“Yeah. No. I did call. A couple months ago. We went on a few… dates.”

“And?”

“Yeah. There’s a reason she’s only getting barista roles. Not… the most engaging person.”

“You’ve known Rebecca for six years. Why this song and dance? You’re not a song and dance kinda guy.”

“Yeah. I know – but what you said about you and Darryl. About how you ultimately didn’t work out as a couple. This – this might actually be our shot. And what if we don’t work out as a couple? I just… if this is the shot, I gotta get it right, man.” 

“… ask me if I regret dating Darryl.”

“…Do you?”

“No, dude. We broke up and it was a year of our lives and it was a really important year. For both of us. Its worth it.”

“Okay.”

“It’s a journey, man, not a destination. Enjoy it.”

“Okay, I hear you, Dalai Lama. Loud and clear.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Element One – Maitri**

**Loving Kindness:**

_not only the desire to make someone happy, to bring joy to a beloved person, it is the ability to bring happiness to the person you love._  

Rebecca grabs on to his arm as they enter the establishment and the young man brings them back to their room. It’s a weird, vaguely-titled location sandwiched between a few restaurants in this strip mall twenty minutes outside of town, and Greg, ever the annoying one, straight up refused to tell Rebecca what they were doing. She didn’t even know if she dressed right for the occasion. But a floral dress and flats were a great go to – formal enough for dinner, casual enough for bowling, although Rebecca knows damn well Greg would never take her bowling, easy enough to take off for nookie…. Truly the perfect outfit.

The kid, who couldn’t be older than nineteen, opens the room for them and hands Greg a few menus before closing the door behind them. It takes all but forty-five seconds for Rebecca to process it. The couch. The giant TV. The large binder on the table.

“NOOOO.” Rebecca yells, eyes bugged out and mouth wide open. She’s hopping up and down, despite the protest from her heavy boobs, which she did not wrap in a sports bra. If she had known – god, she’d wear three sports bras. Because she will be hopping around. A lot.

“YOU DID NOT BRING ME TO KARAOKE.” She squeals as the hops over to the couch and throws open the giant notebook filled with songs, leafing through it like it was a sacred text.

“What can I get you? Can I get you a drink?” Greg asks calmly, sitting down next to her as she starts keying in codes into the control module, queuing up a bunch of songs that Greg doesn’t even have a chance to read the titles of.

Rebecca pauses for a second, squints her eyes, and lowers her voice.

“Oh no no, Serrano. If you have to do this sober – so do I.”

“Oh, I’m not doing this.”

“You sure as hell are. We’re gonna be doing duets. We’re gonna raise the roof up in the bitch.” 

Rebecca’s expression is entirely serious and she’s raising her eyebrows like she’s challenging him. Greg just shrugs. Well, at least he tried to protest. He knew very well as he was planning this date that he would not be able to get out of singing with her.

“Okay – well, clearly you’re gonna do My Way by Sinatra. That’s obvious. Uh… Born in the USA. You channel a pretty good Springsteen. Hmm. And…. OHHH. Lucky by Jason Mraz!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! We can duet that one! Are you more of a tenor or a baritone? How good is your falsetto? You know what, don’t tell me. I’ll be able to figure it out. Oh boy oh boy oh boy.”

Rebecca starts singing, sitting down on the couch next to Greg, eyes trained on the TV as the music for Mamma Mia by ABBA starts to play. Half-way through the song, she’s already pushing the table to the side of the room and dancing, pointing to Greg dramatically as she swings her hips.

She all but throws the microphone at Greg for the next song – Let it Go from Frozen. Oh no.

Greg just glares at her for the first verse but – he knows the song by heart. Because Hebecca watches that movie three hundred fucking times a day. 

Less than an hour into the night, Greg and Rebecca are basically yelling into the microphones, serenading each other with Tubthumping and Baby Got Back and All Star, no semblance of rhythm, the two of them dancing haphazardly and laughing their assess off. Whatever songs Rebecca planned to sing by herself inadvertently became duos and she couldn’t have wished for anything more.

When Lucky by Jason Mraz comes on, the room is steaming hot, the two of them completely out of breath.

They sit down next to each other, and Greg tries to implore her to pause so they can rest, but she turns her whole body towards him, her legs crossed under her. The music starts and she places a hand on his shoulder. She’s singing both parts of the song, pointing to his microphone every verse, as if imploring him to join in. He doesn’t know the song – but he can’t look away from her. Its almost like she’s trying to tell him something without telling him something, and her voice soft, raspy, and breathless is doing crazy things to his heart.

Greg’s entire chest is aching and he looks up to the ceiling, shaking his head at himself in pride. Greg Serrano. Truly a genius. He picks up the microphone for the last verse, and Rebecca all but jumps into his lap at the motion.

Their voices, weirdly enough, match perfectly. 

“Lucky I’m in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

Lucky we’re in love in every way

Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed

Lucky to be coming home someday…”

Rebecca won’t stop chattering as he drives her home, the energy seeping off contagious, filling Greg’s brain to the point of mania, his whole body jittery, his hands tapping against the wheel of his car in rhythm to a beat that’s only in his head. They karaoke’d for almost three hours and he feels like he’s run multiple miles, shirt sticking to his back, throat sore. Rebecca looks a mess, her hair flying everywhere, eyeliner smeared on her face from the perspiration. He has to pat himself on the back for this one. He’s never seen her so happy. 

He parks in front of her house and it takes Rebecca a minute to realize they’ve stopped, fading out her speech. Her face drops. Greg starts to get out of the car and she opens the door as well, the cool breeze of the evening feeling ice-chill against her sweaty back.

She bites her lip on her doorstep and moves her body in an almost waltz. She’s looking up at him with such a dreamy expression. Greg wishes he can snapshot this exact moment. She’s never looked at him like that before. She’s always surprising him in new ways to make his heart race. Unbelievable.

“That was… the most fun I’ve ever had.  You think you know someone after six years, but…” Rebecca tilts her head and shrugs, giving him the sweetest smile. She reaches out and holds his hands, swinging them a bit. “You’re always finding new ways to surprise me, Serrano.”

Greg lets go of her hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Rebecca’s ear. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe this moment is happening.

“I hope we never get used to it,” he says, and leans in. She almost jumps into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Greg like she’s a baby koala latched onto her mom’s back.

The sweat left his lips salty and Rebecca traces her tongue along them, suddenly ravenous. She can hardly breathe, each inhale a nervous stutter, her heart racing, her body fervent, vibrating at the feel of him, _want_ jumping to the front of her brain like its finally been let out of its cage. 

She’s never tasted anything better than his mouth. His lips, soft, velvety – all she wants is to bite down, to drag him into her house, to stick her tongue down his throat and whatever other orifice he’ll let her….

Greg pulls away, almost sharply, and Rebecca is left standing, flabbergasted, tongue halfway out her mouth. Greg closes his eyes tight, takes a deep breath, and breathes out his mouth slowly, forming an O with with his lips.

Rebecca’s mouth is red and she tentatively touches her own lips, eyes wide, even the light touch of her own fingers feeling like electricity.

“Am I – am I bad at this now? I’m sorry, I haven’t – its been –“

 Greg hurriedly puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls Rebecca in. “No, shhh. No, no. We – we always rush things. I want to do things right this time. Don’t – don’t doubt that I want you. I always want you. You gotta let me take you out a few more times before –“ he motions between the two of them, “Before this part. You know I love this part. You gotta know its my favorite –“ Rebecca leans in again, softer this time, letting the memory of his lips against hers imprint on her mind. She traces his jaw with her fingertips, feather-light, and pulls away. Greg’s face, the way his eyelashes flutter open and his eyes, hazy focus back in on her, makes the whole thing worth it.

“I hear you. But. ‘You taking me out’ a few more times? Come on. It’s the twenty-first century. How about I pick you up.  On Sunday.”

Greg recoils, confusion spreading over his face. “Sunday?”

Rebecca reaches out her hand and squeezes his.

“Yeah. Sunday. Does that work?” She opens her front door and winks at him. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as she closes the door behind herself. Greg’s mind is racing, as is his heart, and his libido, and whatever other chemicals that are in his body that make him feel like if he was to do the ‘Superman’ stance, he’d fly straight into the sky.

_Home run, Serrano,_ he thinks.


	5. Chapter 5

WhiJo sips on his beer as Greg recounts the date to him, smile spread wide across his face.

“I thought you only did karaoke when you’re drunk, dude.”

“I can like… whimsical things when I’m sober.”

“You remember on Josh’s 21st we did Don’t Stop Me Now until someone threw something at us? And then you belted out that Celine Dion song… from Titanic… 

“My Heart Will Go On? No. I – no. That didn’t happen.”

“Really glad you stopped drinking, dude. Did Celine Dion a favor.”

“And my car,” Hector adds from the bar, sitting across from Heather, who shoots Greg a knowing wink. He did good. Now the ball is in Rebecca’s court. 

* * *

 

“A…cooking class?”

“A cooking class! A couples cooking class. What do you think? Do you love it?”

“Rebecca – I’ve never seen you cook anything. In my life.”

Greg takes a brief look around. There’s six different counters, each with a sink and a stove and just a bit of counter space, and six pairs of couples, themselves included, some laughing and drinking wine. Some clearly getting to know each other for the first time.

“Oh, yeah, no, I don’t cook. But. This class is called Italian Masterpieces. How could I not? Plus, you always tell me how much you miss cooking now that you’re always running things at the restaurant.”

Greg gives Rebecca and inquisitive look and she curls her lips and shrugs innocently.

The chef, a young woman who couldn’t be any older than the two of them in a crisp white uniform and chef hat, which Greg Serrano, being a restaurant owner, knows is not how real cooks dress, you could never keep your uniform that white, _come on -_ but he digresses - is making her rounds, introducing herself to each couple before she stops in front of them.

“Hi you two! I’m Chef Sarah. Welcome to our couples cooking class. “

“Hello, Chef Sarah. I would like to introduce you to another Italian masterpiece,” Rebecca makes presenting hands at Greg and he closes his eyes, shakes his head and covers his face with one of his hands, though there’s an undeniable smile on his face. “Greg Serrano! And I – I am Rebecca Nora Bunch! And I’d like to ask – what’s, like, the reward system here? Do you give grades or do you announce which couple made the best dish… is this like Chopped?” 

Chef Sarah gives them an uncomfortable laugh and brushes off Rebecca’s questions.

“Well – I’m happy to have a long term couple here. This is always so awkward as a place for first dates… How long have you two been together?”

“Oh – this is our second date!” Rebecca bolts out, holding on to Greg’s arm. Chef Sarah looks between the two of them, squints her eyes and pretends to be doing something with her apron.

“……………Okay. Great. Well. Enjoy the class.”

Rebecca’s pulling out a bottle that looks like champagne from her giant purse – but its just sparkling apple juice, who’da thunk it - and is grabbing them two wine glasses from beneath the cooking station.

“You booked this class exclusively for that joke, huh?”

“Best 200 dollars I ever spent.”

Rebecca makes ridiculous faces as he’s boiling the mussels for the appetizer, grabbing one of the opened shells and using it as a marionette, making ridiculous jokes about seafood. Greg is in the zone at first, reducing causes, adding herbs – but Rebecca is distracting in all the best ways and it doesn’t take long for Greg to stop caring so much about the perfection of the meal and to focus on what really matters. The woman standing next to him.

 Greg elbows her. “Wow, its so interesting, getting to know you for the first time, on this, our second date.”

“This doing anything for you?” Rebecca asks, wiggling her eyebrows and bringing the small ball of gnudi mixture in front of her face, rolling it into a ball between her two palms and sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth, like she’s concentrating deeply.

Greg almost burst out laughing, the other couples, much quieter than the two of them, shooting them inquiring looks. They’re having a much harder time than Greg and Rebecca – there’s a benefit to having an actual well-versed cook in the kitchen. And not like any of these techniques are new to Greg – but he sure is getting a kick out of Rebecca trying them and stumbling her way through reducing a sauce, or throwing in too many pine nuts for the pesto… It’s the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen and the butterflies in his stomach are alive and well.

That said, he sure as hell isn’t going to let that woman zest that lemon like that for the sorbet! Who does that?! She’s getting the _rind_ …

 No, no, don’t do it like that, hold on.” Greg stands behind Rebecca and gently takes her hand. She leans back into him, bodies making contact. He leans down next to her ears and whispers, “Pay attention,” but he knows damn well she’s not gonna pay attention.

He guides her on how to zest a lemon correctly. Just the aromatic surface part. His fingers find their way under her shirt and he quickly looks around, nobody else paying attention, to her naval, and a sneaky little finger down the side of her pants. She almost gasps at the sensation and closes her eyes hard.

“Woop! Watch out for that lemon juice! It’ll sting your eyes!” Chef Sarah pipes up and Greg hurriedly removes his hand from under Rebecca’s shirt and looks up to the ceiling, innocently, as Rebecca, shaking hands, continues to zest.

* * *

 Greg’s apartment is almost laughably small, a 600 sq foot one bedroom which happened to be mostly kitchen. Its not entirely furnished, either, with a couch, a TV, and a TV stand without a coffee table, or a dining room table, or really much else. No art on the walls. Rebecca muses that Greg is sorely missing a giant fish.

At least his kitchen is fairly large, with an island counter and upgraded appliances. Probably the reason Greg would choose one of these new complexes rather than something a little older but more homey.

He doesn’t really invite Rebecca in, she just scoots in after him. He’s barely paying attention, throwing his jacket onto the couch and going towards the refrigerator before he stops and looks at Rebecca, like he’s processing what’s happening for the first time. Rebecca is standing in front of the door, holding her purse in her hand innocently, looking around.

“Rebecca – I. Please. Come in. Sit down.” He motions absently to the couch and Rebecca hops up, throwing her coat off and her purse somewhere into the corner, sitting down innocently on the couch. Comfy.

“Can I make you a cup of coffee? Or tea?” Greg’s already working as he’s talking, getting some coffee beans into the grinder and heating up his electric kettle.

He almost doesn’t notice it as she’s standing next to him, examining the counter space.

“A French press? I didn’t realize you were so fancy.”

“Surprisingly, when you go back to school in your late 20s, the cheap shit doesn’t cut it anymore.”

Rebecca steps behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, head resting against his shoulder blades. He pauses for a few seconds, running a thumb over her hands, before continuing to make them coffee. Rebecca takes a deep inhale of him, fingers working between the buttons of his shirt.

“What can I do to help?”

Greg chuckles. He turns around, dislodging her wandering hands. In one quick movement, he lifts her up, her instinctively wrapping her legs around him for balance, and walks her a few feet to sit her on top of the island counter. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he sets her down, but now she’s looking down at him. Rebecca leans in close, capturing Greg’s lips in a long, chaste kiss.

“I’ve missed you….” She whispers against his lips as she leans her forehead against his. His hands are still wrapped around her back and he paints small circles between her shoulder blades with his fingers. She can feel his breathing quicken as she leans in again, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, just barely. He slots himself a little closer, body pressed against the counter, centered between her legs. He moves straight in for her neck, pressing his lips lightly against her pulse, sending goosebumps up and down her body. Rebecca is almost embarrassed at the realization that her nipples immediately get hard in anticipation.

His voice is lower, husky when he speaks again, doing unspeakable things to Rebecca’s nether regions. “Tell me how much.”

Rebecca feels her mouth start to water – at which moment, the kettle dings that its finished heating up the water and Greg pulls away, leaving her, slack mouthed and legs open, on the kitchen counter.

“You take cream and sugar, right?” Greg asks, voice suddenly calmer and back to normal.

“… I definitely take cream.” Rebecca replies, sultry.

Greg brushes off the comment and brings the tiny carton of half-and-half and a coffee cup to her. Rebecca gives him a playful glare, but pours the creamer into the coffee anyway, blows on it, and takes a large, slurpy sip.

He’s leaning against the opposite counter, them looking at each other, wordless. Rebecca finishes her cup uncharacteristically quickly, and, not looking away, picks up the carton of half-and-half. Opens it. And pours a tiny amount down her collarbone. Greg watches, wide eyed, as the milky-white drops slowly trail down her collarbone and disappear in her cleavage.

“Whoops. So clumsy.” Rebecca says, arching her eyebrows and licking her lips.

“You’re obscene…” Greg murmurs, but its spare seconds before he’s rushing to her, between her legs and his tongue in on her collarbone. She arches her neck back, giving him easier access. 

Greg’s tongue follows the line of the creamer into her breasts, fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. She’s wearing a lacy, black bra, push up, as if she even needed it, and Greg makes quick work of making his way, smoothly, under her shirt and unhooking her bra. He doesn’t take the bra off, not yet, just pulls at the cups until her nipples are exposed, just a sliver. Rebecca feels herself breathing heavier, keeping her eyes on Greg. As soon as he puts his mouth around her nipple, teeth mildly grazing the tender nubs, he looks up at her and smirks, making her go lightheaded. _Jesus Christ._  

“This what you want?” He whispers, putting his mouth of her breast, using his spare hand to tweak her other nipple. Rebecca gasps.

“… Please,” she groans out. Greg is back at her neck, hands working on the zipper of her pants, tongue slick against her collarbone.

 “Tell me how much.” He all but growls into her ear, husky and sweet like molasses. Rebecca’s pulse skyrockets. Her panties might as well be a waterslide.

 Greg isn’t stopping, though, and he slides his hands into her now unbuttoned pants, touching her tentatively over her underwear. A few circles around her clit. A light finger over her pussy. She’s quivering now, mouth watering, almost in tears.   
  
“Please… please… I want you to fuck me.” Rebecca moans, words quiet. She feels Greg smile into her neck and he slides one finger right past her panties into her. She gasps at the sensation, wrapping both arms around Greg.

 “Is that so?” he asks, finger slipping out of her pussy and traveling back to her clit, the wetness smoothing his passage, making Rebecca almost jump off the counter.

“Please. Fuck me like I’m your dirty little slut. I want you…” She reaches for his pants, making quick work of the buttons, gripping his cock hard with her hand. His breath hitches, but the words are coming out quickly now, a little more frantic as he makes his way back to her pussy and gently inserts two fingers, arching them, pushing in and out.

 Rebecca moans, digging her nails into his shoulder while the other works his erection in eager, jerky motions.

 “Fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week… Fuck me so hard that everyone knows I’m yours.”

 The last few words seems to set something off in Greg, and he pulls his fingers out. He looks her in the eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth pink and needy, breathing erratic. He kisses her, lips over hers, tongue searching her mouth.

 Greg grabs her belt loops and she complies, lifting her ass up and letting him slide her pants and her panties right onto the floor. He kneels down immediately, tongue on her clit and fingers in her pussy, and her chest feels like its about to explode. How he still knows her body so well after all these years is unreal – but he’s hitting all the right points, just slow enough that Rebecca’s legs are shaking and the wetness of his fingers sliding in and out of her the only sound filling the kitchen.

 The white hot lights starts to build up behind her eyes in another minute and she grabs onto his hair and gently wills him up. His fingers don’t stop the work but he comes in for another kiss, and the taste of herself in his mouth is driving Rebecca crazy.

 “Bed,” she all but whispers against his lips and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He kicks his pants that are wrapped around his ankles to the corner, grabs Rebecca and somehow carries her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed, her hair splayed around her like some fucking Grecian painting.

Rebecca’s hands are on his dick before he’s even fully on the bed and she’s impatiently trying to guide him inside her, but he pulls away, wagging his finger. Rebecca looks at him, exasperated. He shakes his head at her, reaches towards his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rebecca groans in agreement. He uses his teeth to rip open the condom, fingers working Rebecca’s pussy. Rebecca is already putting her legs on his shoulders, making a show of tweaking her nipples in front of him and licking her lips.

“Come on, Serrano. Fuck me stupid.”

Greg snorts and shakes his head. He grabs his dick and slides It against her, hitting her clit, a few times before he gently glides himself inside.

Rebecca’s breath hitches and Greg has to stop for a moment, his entire body pulsating with want. He turns to kiss her calf draped over his legs, grips her thighs, and starts to rock into her. Rebecca seems to be loving it and the look on her face makes him increase the speed of his rhythm until he feels himself consistently hit her walls, each thrust causing a sharp exhale of air. As the pressure starts to build up, Greg takes her legs and puts them back down on the bed, laying himself more flat, and capturing her panting mouth in a kiss. Her moaning with each thrust, deep and wet, is the best goddamn thing he’s ever heard.

She wraps her legs around his back and suddenly she’s forcing him to roll over, her on top. The view is stupendous. He devours her with his eyes, Rebecca flushes, needy, grinding against him desperately, breath hitching, only tiny gasps escaping her pink lips every few seconds, her eyes closing involuntarily. Greg generally likes to close his eyes but this – this he is not going to miss.

Greg sits up, gripping Rebecca’s hips, and kisses her hard on the mouth. She’s rolling her hips rhythmically, perfectly, and _God,_ Greg is not going to last long.

“Oh shit!” Rebecca exclaims, legs starting to shake. She keeps grinding against him, him sitting up, nipple in his mouth. His body, slick from her, was giving her just the right amount of friction and holy shit – she’s gonna cum.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” she moans hurriedly, fingernails digging into his back, making him completely lose control, start to rock his own hips, faster and faster until they’re both sweating, breathless messes. Rebecca is first, deep inhale and gasp, her legs shaking on top of him and him next, moaning her name. The two of them collapse in the afterglow, bodies slick with sweat.

Rebecca is laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a huge smile on her face as Greg runs off to the bathroom to get rid of the condom.

That’s the first time she’s had sex in almost two years. Well worth the wait. 

“I think the standard is three dates before sleeping with someone.” Greg says, butt naked, walking back towards the bed. She taps the sheets next to her and he climbs under the covers until their naked bodies are slotted next to each other, face to face. Rebecca leans in to kiss him, and Greg complies, gentle, fluttery, eliciting an almost embarrassing sigh from his mouth.

“Greg?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Greg meets Rebecca’s eyes, but she doesn’t flinch away. She’s smiling gently, hair a mess and makeup smeared. He wraps his arms tighter around her, until her face is pressed against his chest so she could her the beating of his heart.

“I love you too.”

* * *

“Rebecca… why are you walking like that?” Heather takes less than five seconds to comment as Rebecca walks into Home Base. She gives her a curt look and sits down next to Hector at the bar.

“Oh – that’s the signature Greg Serrano limp.” Heather nods knowingly and Rebecca covers her own mouth with her hand, trying to hide her smile.

Hector looks horrified, looking back and forth from Rebecca to Heather frantically.

“Is his… babe, is his… hmmm… huge? Is Greg’s penis huge? You have to tell me. I’ll never sleep again. Is it bigger than mine? God - ” Hector grips his head in his hands and scoots away from the bar, making his way to the bathroom, muttering something to himself. Heather laughs out loud and fist-bumps a suddenly very bashful Rebecca.

“Is – does everyone know?”

Chris pops up from behind the bar and Rebecca darts her head over to Heather, who shrugs.

“He needed a summer job.”

“Yeah, I already tweeted it, it’s the number 1 locally tending hashtag.” Chris points his phone towards Rebecca and indeed, #Grebecca, #sixlongyears both trending.

Greg is going to fucking hate that. It’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this shortly after Meant to Be Exception. I have three more parts planned, but unfortunately will unlikely be able to write for a few more months and wanted to put this out here as a reminder and promise to myself! Thank you for reading and for loving these two beautiful silly idiots! 
> 
> I'm @gregserrrano on Tumblr if anyone wants to stop by and see some beautiful art by fellow Greg/Rebecca lovers!


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